


i'm young/i like you

by manohman (markohmark)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Friends, Holding Hands, M/M, Pining, mark is in love and it shows, set in the USA, sweaty hands ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markohmark/pseuds/manohman
Summary: Sneakily, as if hoping Mark wouldn’t notice, Donghyuk reaches for his hand with his own. Of course Mark notices; Mark notices everything, when it’s Donghyuk, and he’s gotten into the habit of avoiding Donghyuk’s touch perfectly.(alternatively, mark is in love with his best friend. you know how this goes.)





	i'm young/i like you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catalystkrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catalystkrish/gifts).
  * Inspired by [good grief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11753181) by [idolrapper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idolrapper/pseuds/idolrapper). 



> for my friend, who wanted sweaty hands <3
> 
> so basically i read "good grief" and felt very motivated to write something. idk, i just love childhood friends and i couldn't stop thinking about them.
> 
> alternative title: hi sweaty ;)

I. Mark has sweaty hands, even in the cold of winter; now, trekking through the snow, Mark knows his palms are clammy and sweating. He knows this like he knows that Donghyuk chose this field, a two-song walk from their next-door houses, to make a snowman. He knows this like he knows Donghyuk longs for his childhood, when Mark’s hands weren’t always so nervously sweaty and he could hold his best friend’s hand, simple and quiet. Mark knows a lot, but he can’t change a single thing.

“Come on,” Donghyuk says, encouraging. He looks over at Mark, his cheeks ruddy with the cold. He looks like rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. He looks beautiful. “It’ll be fun, Mark.”

Then, sneakily, as if hoping Mark wouldn’t notice, Donghyuk reaches for his hand with his own. Of course Mark notices; Mark notices everything, when it’s Donghyuk, and he’s gotten into the habit of avoiding Donghyuk’s touch perfectly. 

Mark shoves his fists in the pockets of his jacket, shivering. “Sure,” he agrees, easily, grinning over at Donghyuk to make up for it. 

Backlit by the afternoon sun, Donghyuk glows, shining the way snow does in the light of day. It’s terrifying and wonderful and bewildering, because Mark knows that to anyone else, Donghyuk is merely that funny kid in the back of class, sardonic and nice. Mark knows that to him, Donghyuk is so much more. Mark looks away, afraid to look for too long. 

Of course, Donghyuk uses his distraction as an opportunity to pelt him with snowballs. The first one breaks against his back, the next one hitting his chest a little harder, Mark trying futilely to stop the onslaught while Donghyuk laughs.

“Oh my god,” Mark shrieks, his laugh airy and high-pitched. He’s not sure what’s really funny, but Donghyuk’s laugh is as infectious and magnetic as its owner.

“You gonna hit me back?” Donghyuk taunts. “Come on, hit me with your best shot,” he sing-songs.

Mark doesn’t waste time packing snow, instead scooping up snow and simply throwing it on Donghyuk’s face, most of it blowing past him. 

Donghyuk’s still laughing, eyes crinkled up in mirth, as he sticks his tongue out at Mark. “That didn’t even get me!” he says gleefully.

Mark knows that he loves Lee Donghyuk, but he can’t change a single thing.

 

  
II. Donghyuk’s over at Mark’s house, studying together the way they usually do after school. Donghyuk’s got select choir, Mark’s got math team; somehow, it all works out, and even if they barely see each other during the school day they spend their afternoons together, side by side, lounging on Mark’s bed and listening to music and just being together, not talking.

Right now, they’re talking, though. It’s mostly Donghyuk rambling about the day with Mark interjecting from time to time. Donghyuk’s sprawled sideways across Mark’s bed so that his head and feet hang off the side and Mark sits at his desk, head bowed down so he doesn’t accidentally catch the sight of Donghyuk’s gold-painted toes.

“--So, anyways, apparently caffeine is a drug,” Donghyuk finishes. “So don’t drink it, Mark Lee!” he tries to lift his head up enough to look at Mark, but settles for kicking a leg up in the air. Like most guys their age, Donghyuk’s wearing loose basketball shorts--even though it’s early March and he doesn’t even play basketball--and they scrunch up around his thigh to reveal smooth, tanned skin. 

Mark wants desperately to reach out, to touch; to find out if the skin covering Donghyuk’s shins is as warm as it looks. His hands are too sweaty; his pen slips out of his grip once, twice. Mark swallows. Donghyuk’s silent, for once, waiting for a response.

“Love is a drug,” Mark says, thoughtlessly, wiping his hands on his shorts. It sounds like a line he half-remembered from a book he once read.

“How romantic,” Donghyuk says. His leg drops down to the floor with a muffled thump. He sounds a little strange. “Ever been in love, Mark?”

“Have you ever done drugs?” Mark counters.

Donghyuk’s silent for a moment before he laughs, a golden, bright thing. Mark wants to make Donghyuk laugh every day, wishes Donghyuk would never laugh in front of him. He’s ambivalent like that.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk says. “Sounds about right.”

“I wanna try it someday, though,” Mark says. His pen slips in his grip again. He looks down at his math worksheet, and within the margins he’s written _‘Donghyuk = drug’_ in his usual chicken scratch. He frowns down at it, scribbling it out until there’s a large, dark inkblot on the sheet of paper. "Love, I mean."

“Yeah,” Donghyuk agrees. “Me too.”

  
  


III. Spring comes, and with it come rainy days, muddy shoes, and spring track. Mark is filled with equal parts dread and excitement, for spring is when the flowers bloom, when the months creep towards school ending, when Donghyuk is as fast as a comet during his 100-meter dash. 

Mark doesn’t sprint. He’s not quick and fast and flashy the way Donghyuk is, attracting attention from everyone so easily. He’s a long distance runner, and so he endures and endures, even as the spring days reach a sweltering 90 degree heat. Even as Donghyuk seems to forget about him, as slowly and surely as Mark melts with each mile he runs.

He’s more suited for cross country, for running in the quiet, dark woods, for the soft sounds of feet hitting upon dead pine needles and powdery dirt. Mark only does this because he’s young and stupid, and in love enough for every moment to feel precious. Even if he’s running laps around the track field while the sprinters lounge around during their water break, Donghyuk beautiful from even a distance.

He isn’t the only one who notices. Donghyuk tells Mark sometimes, in a voice as light and carefree as a spring day, about the admirers he had refused. 

And sometimes, Mark asks him why he didn’t say yes. Mostly because he’s genuinely curious, but also because he’s hopeful. Mark can’t help it; he’s young and stupid and in love.

Today, Donghyuk says, “why are you so curious?” in response to him. They’re walking home on their way back from track practice, sweat still streaming down Mark’s face. Donghyuk is gloriously dry, only a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead giving away the fact he did any physical work. Beside him, Mark feels disgusting, sticky and wet.

Mark side-eyes Donghyuk. Sometimes he can’t tell the difference between Donghyuk being casual and Donghyuk faking it, but this time, he can. Somehow, it’s even more confusing. 

“Just wondering,” Mark shrugs. “You seem to turn everyone down.”

Donghyuk sidles closer to him on the sidewalk, close enough for their hands to brush together. Mark allows the contact for a sweet, sweet second, his wet fingertips brushing against Donghyuk’s palm, before backing away so that half of him is walking on the street instead of the sidewalk.

Usually, it’s enough for Donghyuk to back off. This time, he catches Mark by the wrist and pulls them together, so that his side firmly collides with Mark’s.

“Maybe it’s because I like someone,” Donghyuk says. He sounds shy, hesitant, almost. It’s odd, coming from him.

Donghyuk’s slim, tan fingers around Mark’s wrist feel like a brand on his skin. He almost expects red Marks to remain after he shakes Donghyuk off.

“That’s--great for you,” Mark says tonelessly. He’s tired, almost feeling a little faint with the heat, and he’s young and stupid and in love. It hurts.

This is one of the afternoons where they don’t talk. They shower, one after another, in silence; Donghyuk makes snacks for both of them in silence; Mark spends six songs thinking about Donghyuk and four songs on his math homework in silence.

He can’t shake off the way Donghyuk’s fingers felt around his wrist, so warm and reassuring, yet welcome despite the hot weather. 

 

  
IV. The thing is, most of their time together is spent hanging out and studying, because that’s what they have to do during the school year. On the last day of school, though, Mark feels a rush of anticipation, excitement at the fact that they’ve got a whole summer--and his birthday--to spend together. Mark and Donghyuk, Donghyuk and Mark.

“You excited for summer?” Mark murmurs to Donghyuk. They’re clustered on the sidewalk with the rest of their friends, walking slowly to the nearest pizza place for takeout. School’s ended, and with it Mark feels a rush of relief.

Donghyuk throws an arm around Mark’s shoulder, cracks a grin. “Is that even a question?” he asks. “‘Course I am. There’s track camp, chorus camp, and you.” he lists these things as if they’re the only things that matter  to him, as if Mark is the only thing that matters to him, and Mark’s heart soars.

“Yeah, me too,” Mark replies, smiling back. He can feel Donghyuk’s fingers tapping patterns against his shoulder, and he doesn’t move, for a second. He can feel the moisture that’s clinging to his palms, and he wonders if he’d let Donghyuk hold his hand. He can feel Donghyuk’s hand slowly moving down his arm, caressing gently, their fingers almost about to touch, and Mark wants to let him, this time, he really does--

“Catch up, lovebirds!” Jaemin hollers. Mark snatches his hand out of Donghyuk’s and the two of them jog quickly to where the rest of the group is waiting, a couple blocks ahead. “We’re gonna have to wait even longer for pizza if you guys walk that slow.”

Mark blushes, unable to say a word. Donghyuk shrugs, seemingly unaffected. “My walking pace is, like, inversely proportional to how fast I am on the field,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Which says something about how fast you are, Nana.”

Jaemin splutters good-naturedly, and Donghyuk steps in stride with him, both of them easily trading jokes and insults. Their bantering isn’t as practiced as Donghyuk and Mark’s is, Mark would like to think, but Jaemin's got a quick wit that matches Donghyuk’s. Mark isn’t jealous.

Mark walks side by side with Jeno, instead, and forgets everything that comes out of his mouth. He’s got the whole summer ahead of him, a whole summer to get over Lee Donghyuk.

 

  
V. August comes, and Mark’s still loves Donghyuk in that dumb, toe-curling, seventeen-year-old boy way. They spend his birthday in Boston after weeks of begging both of their parents, taking the commuter rail. It takes ten songs to reach alewife, another two songs to transfer from red line to green line, and by the time they reach Newbury Street Mark’s stopped counting. Donghyuk practically buzzes with excitement the whole time, running up the stairs when he exits the station--”the T smells like crap, you can’t blame me!”--and grinning the whole while. It’s infectious.

Newbury Street is a lot of fun, too. It’s too hot out, the sun beating down on their faces, but the sidewalks are still crowded. Donghyuk, in his excitement, is easy to lose.

After the third time Mark loses track of where Donghyuk is, he panics. It’s only a matter of moments, though, before he finds Donghyuk snickering at a Condom World sign.

“You can’t just run off like that,” Mark scolds. “Otherwise you’ll get lost, and then I won’t be able to find you, and then your parents will hate me and we’ll never see each other--”

“Okay, okay,” Donghyuk replies easily. Just as easily, he grabs hold of Mark’s hand, lifting their hands up. “See? Now you won’t lose me.”

Donghyuk’s palms are just as sweaty as Mark’s in the summer heat. The slide of their wet hands against each other is mildly unpleasant. 

Mark swallows. “Yeah, okay.” 

They spend an hour in a bookstore, browsing through titles, Donghyuk never letting go of his hand. It’s late when they step out; they’ve got an hour left before going back on the T, then the commuter rail.

“I need to give you my present,” Donghyuk says, gripping Mark’s hand even tighter, if it’s possible.

“What is it again?” Mark asks. He knows he isn’t going to get an answer.

“A surprise is a surprise, you ass.” Donghyuk rolls his eyes. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, though.”

“Knowing you,” Mark teases, “probably not.”

Instead of responding, Donghyuk remains silent, his grip on Mark’s hand almost numbing. They walk wordlessly, a couple blocks over, to where Donghyuk wants to give him his present.

Mark’s the first to break the silence. “The Charles River, huh?” he asks. They’re sitting on the dock, right beside the gentle rush of water.

Donghyuk looks at Mark, then down at their hands, then back at Mark. He isn’t smiling. 

“I like you,” Donghyuk says. He looks serious, even, not like that time when they were in front of their friends and Jaemin had been smirking in the background as he said it. “I like you, a lot.”

Mark looks down at their hands, then back up at Donghyuk. The sun’s finally starting to set, the orange-yellow light reflecting off of Donghyuk’s cheeks. He looks otherworldly.

“Me too,” Mark replies. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t know how to word how he’s feeling, how he’s in love with Donghyuk in his dumb, seventeen-year-old boy kind of way. 

For now, it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> if u read this i love u <333333 
> 
> support nct dream
> 
> my twt is @markohmark_ say hi


End file.
